This past weekend, I found myself in a bomb shelter of a secular West Bank settlement, talking with teens our age about Jewish identity in Israel and in the Diaspora. The entire situation kind of worked out in my favor, because for the last month I've been trying to put together this article in my head, something about what it means to be Jewish in Israel; what it is that qualifies you as a Jew; why is it that being Jewish and Israeli are seen as two different things; and how secular Israeli society is still very Jewish to me. I didn't know where to start or where to go, so the whole idea was just minimized in my brain for a while.

Then, I spent Shabbat at a religious Carlebach moshav (a cooperative living community) with five other Year Course girls and a group of New York/ New Jersey Orthodox girls spending their deferred year at seminary in Jerusalem. They were experiencing such a different Israel than I was! While it was such an effort and a weird thing for me to keep Shabbat, say the blessing after meals, and analyze this week's parashah... these were the type of things that defined their year. One told me that she had no desire to even go to Tel Aviv or see secular areas of Israel, because she could find places like that in America. That is exactly the opposite of what I think!

In Jerusalem, the religious world is so American and so foreign to me. But where else than in Israel can you find modern cities covered in Hebrew, "Shana Tova" billboards for Rosh Hashanah, menorahs in coffee shop windows for Hanukkah, streets named only for Jews, and Shabbat songs being played for kids as they color in a community center? To me, everything about life in Israel is Jewish, but to these girls, Judaism could only be felt in prayers or text and Israeli life is just a bunch of people going about their days as they would anyplace else. One girl said that in her seminary studies , she doesn't even learn Hebrew, because the only Hebrew she needs to know is already written in the Torah. We are both here to live in Israel, but it's as if we've come to two different countries this year.

Then there's the West Bank settlement of Rimonim. About 40 minutes east of Jerusalem, it's a cluster of red-roofed settlement houses, surrounded by a fence, guarded by soldiers. It has a great view of the Samarian and Judean hills and the Arab villages that line the horizon. The settlers were secular Israelis and not religious Jews. They had come to Rimonim to improve their quality of life, and with the money it costs to buy an apartment in Jerusalem, built large two-story houses in the hills of the West Bank. They had formed a tight community, and my host mom of the weekend told me that when it would come time for their disengagement, they will be more upset with the loss of their homes and community than with their claim to the West Bank. But to continue living in the West Bank, she said, they still needed a little right-wing ideology. She didn't believe there could ever be peace with the Palestinians and didn't want to destroy her and her family's life for a chance at something that was implausible. Why did they need to be the victims; every Israeli town and city had started out as a settlement with settlers, and one day new secular Israeli cities could flourish in the vast space that is the West Bank.

I, however, could not see an improvement of quality of life living in such a dangerous place, and although their land was very beautiful, I didn't feel the same connection to it that I feel to the land within Israel. With the only other signs of human life being Arab villages, it felt like we could have as easily been in Jordan or Lebanon on that hill. In Israel now, public opinion is beginning to accept the fact that a Palestinian state is inevitable, and if it was to be on this West Bank land, than it would be on land I wouldn't miss. We talked about this instead of going to services Friday night, because they weren't a religious family.

Later on, the Year Coursers there for the weekend had an activity with the high school-aged scouts in Rimonim where we talked about Jewish identity (in the bomb shelter). The question was brought up whether it was easier to be a Jew in America or in Israel and then whether the Israelis felt more Israeli or Jewish. What crazy questions! How can being a Jew in Israel be hard and how can you feel Israeli but not Jewish?

But this is what it is like in Israel. This craziness is not so crazy. It is unfortunately very common for people to refer to themselves first as 'Israelim' and not 'Yehudim' or say that this is a country for Israelis before it is a country for Jews. At Sunday school and in youth group in America, they're always asking us whether you consider yourself an American Jew or Jewish American. How can you ask that in Israel? Jewish Israeli or Israeli Jew? It shouldn't be logical! Why aren't they synonyms? And how do I, who would answer Jewish American in America but Israeli Jew in Israel, rationalize any of this?

And this is where I am, lacking not in stimulating discussions and experiences but in any form of answer, summary, or conclusion. I don't know what I think, other than the fact that I'm thinking all the time. The things I find myself doing and the wide variety of people I meet are always shaping my thoughts and opinions. I am well aware and pretty excited that there is a long, long journey for me still ahead. May it be an interesting one.